


One Lonely Star

by GothMoth



Category: Danny Phantom
Genre: Angst, Animal Death, Apocalypse, Blood, Body Horror, Cannibalism, Depression, Dissection, Eye Trauma, Gen, Gore, Heroism, Mass Death, Murder, Mutilation, Post-Apocalypse, Self-Destruction, Self-Sacrifice, Suicide, Torture, Universal Destruction, Violence, analysis of the human condition, annihilation, global death, hopelessness, universal death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-01
Updated: 2019-03-11
Packaged: 2019-11-07 15:31:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17963222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GothMoth/pseuds/GothMoth
Summary: One day the apocalypse came to earth and one lone hero tried to fix everything. But sometimes not everyone can be saved and other times no one can be.This is a story of a hero abandoned yet who refuses to abandon. One who was once such a child, with innocents now forsaken, and whose fate truly was inevitable. Is it an inevitability that will finally deliver a dying world to its long-awaited demise? Or one that will spit in the face of hell itself to save everything. Either way, it is with the stars where destiny lies.Welcome to humanities retribution.





	1. Star Fall Down

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first multi-chapter work.  
> there will be no dialogue until the epilogue and alt. ending.  
> heed the tags, seriously.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been 5 long years since everything happened, in that time many have tried to fix everything. It's a forlorn truth that only a sad few are still left and still trying. So thus our story begins, for here we meet one so-called "hero".

_When all the stars fell down,_  
_there was nothing I could do._  
_For all my power and heroism,_  
_there was nothing I could do._  
-a phantom of the past-

 

 

I don’t know how long it’s been since I last saw the light of day, I walk pushing and shoving rubble out of my way. I’m not sure what they belong to anymore. I used to be able to tell which brick belonged to which building, which siding was from the school or what piece of neon lighting was from the nasty burger. Now it’s all just a blend of grays and browns, there’s the occasional splash of something else but it’s fleeting and eventually becomes muddied too.  
The odd living or sentient thing I see, is best avoided I’ve found. Societal collapse relieves most folks of their inhibitions and it gives them newfound urgency. Urgency which always trumps whatever morals and mental high roads they have or once had. It’s different for me, I knew this urgency before the fall; had my morals tested before everything crashed. So I guess I was a step ahead, I’m still unsure if that’s for the best or not. Sure it made it easier to adjust to all of this but others noticed my ease; and people, humans especially, are easily paranoid. It doesn’t help that the young, quick to fight, and those seeking to take advantage of things were the first to succumb to this harsh reality. Those were the ones who trusted me and believed in me most. I mean sure my parents are still around but they never really knew me, trusted me or even really liked me. Well at least that’s how they were about half of me, though if I’m honest they didn’t know either half of me. Before everything fell I had suspected they were starting to realize how far from them I had become but that doesn’t matter now. Survival and trying to protect what’s left is what matters now. At least my parents can agree with me on that. Though if at any point they had begun to trust or like all of me, that time had since past. My ease with suffering, destruction and sudden mass disaster made them blame me. Because of course, since I was used to everything going to hell then I must be the cause! I guess if I hadn’t reacted with jokes or may be shown a facial expression other then resignation, they may have viewed me differently.

I visibly sigh, giving my current surroundings another once over; just in case. I need more, always more. Yet there’s never really enough. There isn’t enough for anyone and there’s not enough people to need things either. Sure there’s an abundance of many things, picking up a discarded poker chip, but those things aren’t good for much.  
Flicking the chip across the floor it manages to break off some glass from one of the few somewhat intact windows. Chuckling, it’s not like windows do any good down here anymore. Deciding that there’s nothing here worth the effort I elect to head back to my overpass, not that it really counts as an “overpass” anymore. Looking back I’d honestly rather just jump out one of the real windows. One that can actually see the outside air and sky. But I know that’s a fools game today, a gamble not worth much thought. Even if I did find a way out to the above from that building, who knows how far a drop the ground is; and it’s not like I can fly. Chuckling dryly, it’s been longer than I’d like.  
Turning back, using both memory and the glow of my eyes to guide me “home”.

“Home” is a funny word now, it really doesn’t mean what it used to mean. All it means now is that I can rest, stop, breathe; for a while. When I’m out I never breathe, I just hold abated breath. Can’t risk anything or one hearing. Before I could breathe, I did breathe, all the time actually. That seems dangerous and absurd now. Back then dangers came and went, they were boisterous, flashy and wanted to be noticed. Now danger is a constant, it never leaves, and it doesn’t care about making itself known.  
Before I could fight back, I could spar, I could joke; I can’t do that now. Not with this danger.

Humans can be ruthless things, sure ghosts have naturally equipped weapons but they seldom have a true drive to just end you. Ghost can be content with returning to the same game of hunt and chase, over and over again. Humans want finality and when they really truly want it, they never take breaks. Maybe that’s why I’m still here, why I still keep doing this again and again. I’m not content to succumb to accepting the finality of this situation but I’m also not willing to just try again later. I won’t accept finality and I won’t take breaks. So that’s why I went looking today and why I’ll go again tomorrow. Till I have what I need, what they need.

Ghosts gave up on this place years ago, I don’t think I’ve even sensed a single one in months. I guess humans are no fun to scare when they’ve gotten past all their senses. And I guess cities aren’t so fun when nothing works. Sadder thing yet, it’s not just here; it’s everywhere. They’re everywhere.

I used to love the stars, they were my everything when I had nothing else. They were a safe haven I could have fled to if everything went to hell. Well, guess what? Everything did go to hell, but the stars were the hell. Yet I can’t bring myself to ever hate the stars, even if they’re on earth now rather than the sky. Everything’s better in the sky, including me; I would know. That’s the great irony of this all, my one love stole my other love. The two things in the world that gave me mental safe haven, apparently unable to coexist. On top of that, I’m basically the definition of two things that technically can’t coexist, coexisting. That’s another reason why really, because damm it, if I can make life and death coexist then I damn well will do the same to the sky and stars. Though that’s not something that’s really a desire of mine much anymore, these stars, our stars, need to be destroyed.

As I sit here, legs crossed, tinkering away on what little I’ve managed to find over time; I can’t help but look back. That’s always how it is, get in the zone of simply making something, anything, and the mind goes to pleasanter times.  
Before all of this mess I was a pretty happy kid, all things considered. I can’t really say if I’m still happy. I think I am, but it’s not the same kind of happy. Maybe it’s closer to hope than happiness.  
I remember the day with odd clarity but I’m sure much has gotten muddled in the years since. I can’t really say how long it’s actually been, times a funny thing like that.

Just a day with ordinary classes, ordinary teachers and extraordinary friends.  
At first I thought it was nothing more than another ghost attack, we all did; how could we not? We all lived in Amity Park after all.  
One look outside changed everyone’s mood though, the sky was alight with a great many blazes.  
As if someone had set every single cloud on fire, turns out that was pretty close to the truth.  
Emergency broadcasts erupted over every phone and every speaker.  
Screaming to stay indoors, away from the windows and to not under any circumstances look at the sky.  
Being kids, we did what kids do, we looked to the skies.  
Light danced across the sky in massive arches, I knew it immediately as lighting. Far more massive than anything I’d ever seen and very much not right.  
I foolishly assumed it must be that weather ghost again and looked for a way to leave; to change.  
I wish I had been right.  
The teachers had herded us all up, packed and watched closely. There was nowhere I could run and no one who could hide me.  
So I waited, just like everyone else.  
Not knowing was the worst part, I’ve learned over the years before this time and since this time that the worst thing I can do, is to do nothing. Both for my own sake and others. If I didn’t believe that before the day the stars fell I would have after.  
In movies, people like to say the crash came without a warning but that’s not true. We had a warning, the buzzing, the popping, the air becoming brutal just to breathe in. Instinctively I just stopped breathing, I had known no one would notice. That was something I had been right about.  
Everyone had gone to the ground, I had gone into a fighting stance originally but I got pulled down by the chaos of the others.  
The roof shook for only a second before it all came down, massive flashes of blinding electricity shooting everywhere and at everything. It hadn’t taken me long to notice that it wasn’t just things it had struck and was still striking, but rather beings.  
They say this is when fight or flight kicks in, when you see a persons true colours. That saying is true and I had long since lost my flight response. Fighting was all I knew, had been all I’d known for so long. But this, this was something I couldn’t fight. I hadn't even known where to start. So I did what I knew, I protected. I wore my colours, my true colours. Secrets be damned, secrets don’t matter in the face of death. In the face of people dying while you’re just, there. Turns out I needn’t worry about my secret, there wasn’t anyone left to tell.  
That day I learned something, something about intangibility. Something I wish I hadn’t. There’s a big difference between a regular human being made intangible and me becoming intangible. Raw electricity will go through me, it won’t go through them.  
But that wasn’t for a lack of me trying, anyone who was there wouldn’t dare disagree; if they had lived.  
I screamed, I cried, I wailed, I begged.  
All while struggling to hold onto, grab onto, and cover as many as I could. They flocked to me too, understanding that I always had and would play protector. But it didn’t matter, the electricity went through each one, most I didn’t even get to see die. They were gone too fast and eventually I was left to cradle the last one.  
I’ve seen so many others go like this since, had so many others go because my protection just wasn’t good enough; that I can’t say who I was cradling that day. Things blur, it’s all a mater of time.  
Stepping out of the destroyed school I had been soaked in blood, none of it my own, and tears, all of it my own. And I looked to the skies. And everything was coming down, crash and burn.  
Every building, every plane, every person unable to hide.  
This was on such a level that for seconds all I could do was stare, eventually I made some unremembered joke. I’m sure it was either really stupid or unbridled genius.  
Then I got to work, I did the one other thing I knew. I tried to exchange witty banter and a few blows. Turns out that doesn’t work on a gigantic ball of electricity and exploding gas.  
And that was when I knew, I remember looking up and seeing the empty night sky. Not a single star. Then staring around me, massive balls destroying everything. I had no time then to think about, really think about it, now I do.  
Back then I had simply fallen into trying to get people inside shelters, away from the nightmare from the skies. Others did the same too, even my parents. But they as always didn’t recognize me as their son and I guess I was acting to calm, too collected. In short, I had gotten too good at lying and playing a facade. They shouted and yelled at me, assumed it must be my fault. Some plan to make myself look like a hero. My mom has always been good at fear-mongering and being a ghost expert everyone assumed she was right about me, who to them was just a ghost. And like that they turned on me, now that they had something to blame, something that had a consciousness. I quickly learned that my human allies were all dead or gone.  
I hid, I had to, if not for my own safety then for theirs. Humans, in their chance to seek revenge on those they deem responsible, will put themselves in harms way. I couldn’t have that. And if they managed to destroy me, in their fear, then I wouldn’t be here to protect them. I couldn’t have that either. So I ran.  
And that’s how I discovered that flying was bad, very bad. The stars electricity was drawn to movement and the higher up the movement was the more attractive it was, and I move both fast and high. This caused the electricity to target me, and this show caused the humans to be even more sure that I was somehow controlling or responsible for this.  
While my intangibility could protect me, I could only hold it for so long and the blinding light really was blinding. Eventually, everything caught up with me, emotional and physical exhaustion, I just stopped. Stopped all of it, the flying, the intangibility and my colours. In some way, I wanted the pain of electricity, felt I deserved it. Why wouldn’t I? I had failed to save everyone. My ghost healing is all that saved me then.  
The only other like me was not so lucky, it turned out. Shortly after this catastrophe started he, being the frootloop he was, tried to bend the arm of the world. Tried to offer his “protection” for a price. He didn’t know what I had already learned and I’m not sure he would have listened if I had been able to get a hold of him. Intangibility wouldn’t work. He tried his plan and it killed him. I know it did, I’d heard it over the radio.

Eventually, I think I’m done with my tinkering; this one might actually do something. What exactly? I don’t know but anything is better than what currently is. I’ve given up on testing things, on making sure it’s just right; I guess I realized I don’t have time for that anymore. I don’t have time for much at all anymore. But that’s ok, my time was never really mine was it? No, it always belonged to everyone else. To their safety, their future, their survival. It always was and always will be. And that’s ok. It really is.

Look I know you can’t always save everyone, but that’s always been my plan. At the very least I’ll save some of them, a part, something that can exist on. I’ve had to come to terms with the fact that I have been, and will continue to be, saving more parts than wholes. A leg here, an eye there, even a patch of hair will just have to do. I can’t afford to be choosy with anything, not a single scrap. And every single scrap has seen me bleed and cry, that’s what doesn’t get easier. Mourning still happens even if I don’t have the time, even if no one does. I know a lot of people walking around are permanently mourning, unable to just carry on. They’re the ones waiting to just be taken out. I wish they wouldn’t do that, they’ll become another person I can only save part of. And everyone, every single one, is worth being save in the whole. I don’t care what hardships they’ve seen or who they lost, dammit! They have inherent worth! They deserve the right to survive! I always want to shout at them when I do spot one of the wanderers. If you can’t bare to survive for your own sake then find someone or thing else to survive for! Someone or something needs you! Wants you! I promise!  
But I know shouting does no good, I’ve tried; oh how I’ve tried. They’ll either learn it on their own or well.............or they just won’t. But I’ll be there to pick up the pieces, always. Put back together what I can and hope the rest forgives me for not rescuing it too. I like to think they all do but I know some don’t, they’ve told me so.

Picking up my new trinket I begin the walk to the surface, breathing stalled and eyes always scanning. Looking for stars or looking for people, I no longer know which I’d really prefer. The first time a saw some eat another person was when I knew this really was hell. As I pass one of the many haphazardly built concrete caves, I do wind up spotting a person; and they spot me.

I never take off my colours now, I can’t afford to. I need to be able to fly, fight, fire, or become intangible at a moments notice. I must not die. Sometimes that’s a problem and right now is one of those times. This person is clearly one that blames me, I know that immediately, as the fling anything they can get their hands on. A second runs out and attempts to fire what is a now empty ecto gun, old habits die hard. I shake my head and sigh at them, my parents. They look worse for the ware, with them being so close to where I’ve been resting and tinkering; they must be tracking me. This knowledge just makes me sigh deeper and longer, I know talking to them is no use. They’ve lost everything, believing both their kids dead and gone. And they blame me, a parents desire to kill who they believe is their children’s killer is unmatched. It can’t be faltered or bent. I know that and I know that to tell them now would break them to dust. They need something to blame and if they knew they’d eventually blame themselves, that’s yet another thing I just can’t have happening. So let them blame me, I’ll gladly take the fall. It’s what I do.

It doesn’t take much to get away from them, they’re weakened and without usable weapons. Though they’d rip me to shreds with their bare hands if they could, and I know they’d think they were doing it for their kids; for me. Which is touching and I choose to hold on to the warm feeling that brings. Warm feelings don’t come often, so they have to be cherished.

The time comes when I get to where and when I need to be. This star is the biggest I’ve spotted, so it’s always the one I pick to try and destroy. Take out the biggest, baddest foe and the rest will fall like flies, that’s how it works right? Well, I sure hope so.

I stick my fists inside and charge up the blasters with my own ghostly energy. They look something like giant balls attached to tubes encasing my arms. Balls to defeat balls, I find some humour in that really. Once they’re all charged I ram them inside the star with an angry growl.

It doesn’t work.

I know I can’t go back to the same place as before, I know my parents will be waiting for me. I’m used to this though, just move on. Keep going. You’ll get it. Eventually.


	2. Just A Little Lost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some ghosts are better left unfound and hope is best labelled a poison.

I've got to keep working, just keep working, tinkering, fiddling. There isn’t anything else. Figure out what went wrong, fix it, try again. And again. And again. I’ve become frustrated in my work, which earns me a quiet zap. But that doesn’t bother me, it means something is doing something. And that’s progress. But for now, I’ll leave things be. Find more parts, new parts, better parts. I’m certain that things will work, they have to. I have to.

Heading out I opt for a different direction, this time I’ll go farther. Floating lightly above the piles of rubble inside the subway, I find it odd that there’s so much here. But spotting something glowing I decide I do not care.

It works! Something works!

It’s just a piece, just a part but it has a charge. A charge I didn’t give it. I know why as I continue on. Because ectoplasm drips down the walls here, there’s a pool of it on the floor. Radioactive green with hints of a strange unnatural purple. It’s still sentient at least, though I’m unsure if that’s what’s best for it or not. There’s a collar floating in it, with absolute certainty that is a piece of it that needs to be saved. Touching the ectoplasm I can sense that it knows me and I know it. I can not help but cry, though I must make no sound. Through everything, he was a good boy and I’m certain that through this he was good till the bitter end. But I came to late, again too late, always too late. Why were you here! How were you here! You shouldn’t be here! I refuse to speak, who knows who or what could hear. I can’t get caught, get destroyed because I grieved with sound. He wouldn’t want that and they can’t afford that. I will take what I can, every part and set him to sail to the happiness he deserves. Somehow this hits harder than every human I’ve failed, dead humans become ghosts; they come back. But ghosts? They don’t. It’s sad, humans are the ones who seek finality but ghosts are the ones who have to face it.

As I walk along further I realize the metal ghost’s here, he’s never been friendly. That part, the one that worked, was his for sure. I can’t say I’m glad to see him but my displeasure turns to concern, he used to look ok and happy. He doesn’t now. He’s angry, unstable, corrupted somehow. He moves in jerks, green and purple ectoplasm drips from the holes and cracks in his suits. He would never let his suit get into this state, and he would never pass up an opportunity to show me a new weapon. And yet he just did, I think I know what happened to my dog. Ghosts I can deal with, ghosts are easy. This wasn’t a ghost, not anymore, this was a hollow shell of a ghost. Words are written all over his suit, but I have no chance to read them.

He fires and burns me, it’s been too long. I forget this game and dance but some things never die. Swerving, sweeping and spinning in the air, we go at each other like a wild dance. One rehearsed so many times but never grew old, for either of us. I manage to fend him off but this corruption, whatever’s eating him, is killing him. The more I fight him the more I can tell, the more I fight him the more he dies. I just can’t. I can’t do that. I exist so others may survive, regardless of who. So you better live damn it, I let him fling me with the whip of a taser out across tree lines; back the way I came.

I regain consciousness to shouts and jeers, they’re above me. I know they are. Who or what I don’t really know, I can’t take the time to find out. Move. Now.

I shoot straight through the roof, flying up. I don’t look down. Thankfully I had long since gotten used to keeping everything I couldn't leave behind, physically tied to my body somehow. Most of the ropes have been there so long they’ve dug deep enough into my skin that skin has formed over top. I’ll have to cut it out when this is all over, if it’s ever over. Which I’m sure it will be, in time. All things in time.  
They throw things at me as I go, which means I know who they are. Humans, likely my parents have gathered some others up to hunt me, to hurt me, to make me pay. I’d be fine with paying their payments if it didn’t mean my death. That’s the only payment they’ll accept.

I fly through hallways sweeping and turning, I try to avoid using my intangibility as much as possible, might mess up my trinkets. Can’t have that, one might actually work now or in the future; I don’t know. As I whip by I spot some human, clearly barely 20. I don’t hesitate, I just keep moving. Moving is better, for both of us. I don’t know if the humans would kill another human just for being friendly to the “enemy”, they might.  
I can feel his eyes watching me go, they don’t feel hateful. That’s the first time in years I have felt a regular humans stare being non-hateful. It’s jarring actually, you get really used to the way people treat you, look at you, speak to you; over time. Whether it’s filled with hate or love; for the longest time it’s been nothing but hate. That’s ok though, I’m sure it’s ok, completely ok.  
The jarring sensation has the negative side effect of causing me to smack my head into a wall. But I have to ignore the minor pain, I’ve had far worse. This is just a blimp on the pain rollercoaster of life. The person watching laughs or snickers, whether that’s at my pain or out of genuine humour; I do not know. It’s probably best if I give it no thought anyways.

If they start liking me again, if they start asking for my help again; I won’t say no. I won’t turn away, if anything will be the death of me it’s that. So I don’t think about even one possibly beginning to like me. No, never. I’d go back.

I’m going back.

Why did the boy have to look at me? Why did one, just one, have to be nice? I was right before, human morals fall to the wayside in times like this. They saw me of course, they had traps of course, and I didn’t fight back of course. But I don’t just sit and take it, no, if there’s anything I’ve become an expert at it’s coming out ok when I’m completely and utterly screwed and beaten in every single imaginable way. I sigh bitterly as I busy myself with my work, needle in a steady hand slowly doing the delicate work of reattaching my leg. I lost it for a bit. Just a little bit, no big deal. Though I didn’t find my toes, but things grow back. I don’t have time to look for them, I have other things to look for. I haven’t found the mans left hand yet.

It was nice, a warm feeling, that boy standing up for me. Guess he saw what others didn’t. Maybe I should be clumsy in front of people more often. I didn’t get to savour the warm feeling this time, though. The minute he stood up for me, didn’t blame me, didn’t hurt me; he became an "other" to them. Like wolves, they turned and fumed. Churning him up in their refusal of him. It took me too long to get out of the bear traps to stop them. So I’ll save his parts and I’ll both thank and curse him for his small kindness. I like to think I don’t need reminders why I am theirs, why my very existence will always be theirs. But I do. It’s not to remember that truth but rather to feel contentment with that truth. Whether I hate it or love it I am theirs, I’d rather be content about it. Though I miss when I loved every second of it.

With this in mind, I head back to the subway. Filled with nothing but mental begging and pleading that I am met by an attack and not silence. Don’t let it be silence.

It’s silence.

I find his suit, smears of ectoplasm everywhere and not a movement to be found. I remove the head, radioactive green tainted purple drips out and I know. I don’t want to know, but I know. So I reattach the head and sit, allow the grief. If only for now. Eventually, I lift my head, I have to examine his suit and the writing. It may be important and no one can afford me to miss anything, ever. I’ve missed too many things already, I don’t know how I could be forgiven for everything I’ve missed. But I swear I won’t miss this. And I don’t. It takes time and I have to wipe away all the ectoplasmic mess, which pains me to do. But I can read it, all of it; and it’s not pretty.

_Dear Hero,_  
_We know you will find this, hunters do what hunters do. He will find you, eventually._  
_The fall is destroying the earth, and us along with it._  
_There is nothing we can do but stave off pollution in solitude. We can not help you._  
_But you are different, you, a halfa, are immune. Like humans. You will survive._  
_Survive and fix this, fix us._  
_This suit is loaded with everything any of us could think of, use it._  
_Be the hero._

The suit is signed by nearly every name I know, and I have a sinking feeling that those who didn’t sign. Didn’t sign, not because they didn’t want to but because the could not. They did not lie though, the suit is packed with so much. I find myself unsure of where to begin but I don’t have time.

There’s so much more now, I knew, I always knew, that I was fighting and continuing on for everyone else. For humans and ghosts. But having that confirmed so explicitly and to know that there are casualties I didn’t even know could be casualties to this. Is horrid, to say the least, and the ghosts I can’t save any part of them. I can’t go there, if I do, I won’t get back. I know that I’ll either be destroyed by polluted ghosts or I won’t be able to make myself stop trying to help them there. The only way I can help them is to stay away, just like with humans; just stay away. I’ll just have to be satiated with the plan of going there when this is all over, save whatever and whoever I can then. Not now, but then. Looking down at the metal corpse I carry, I can’t bring myself to feel hope through the loss.

Once I’ve gotten where I’m going. I realize that in my thoughts, weighted mind with grief and gravity, I went somewhere with little underground cover. Not the smartest idea but what’s done is done. I make sure to fly low and slow, doing my best to not let a single thing hit, dent or mark the metal suit. I settle on the floor of the second story of a building. Quickly getting to my work, I’m sure that something they gave me must be able to make this ball thing able to work in some way. I still don’t know what this will even do, I still don’t care. Just do something, anything. And in my tinkering, I can't help but reread " _Be the hero_ ".  
I will, I promise I will, I always do, I don’t know anything else.

The first thing I make is a shoulder piece, it doesn’t serve much purpose but having those words so close to my face. Means that if my memory ever goes I won’t forget that one thing. I’ll read it every day and I’ll continue to work. Always.

Sound catches my ear. One of the humans deserted the group, which is how I found out they’re still tracking me. Lead, of course, by mother dearest. Sighing, they must have a ghost tracker of some kind. That’s fine though, if they follow me around then I can shove them out of the way of danger more easily. I’ll take the hit, no worries. Whatever it is. Staring down at the human deserter, I’m honestly not quite sure what they’re doing. Only one floor down you’d think it would be obvious but no. It doesn’t take them long to spot me, honestly though it took longer than I would have liked. You need to pay more attention to your surroundings girl! I don’t bother saying it though. Would be a wasted breath, always is.

She considers me for a moment, I get it, she’s like the boy. Young, easier to adapt, more used to the fall than the time before. Maybe 25 at most I suppose. She offers me what’s she’s holding, thinking a little I understand it’s an apple. A fresh apple. How? This knowledge alone means my hope must be true. Somewhere someone has grown food. Somewhere someone has chosen to thrive, this fallen world be damned. Though that understanding brings with it a realization, one I don’t welcome, the girl was eating. And I hadn’t known what that was.

She pulls me from my thoughts by standing and offering it more closely. Without question I take it. I must know where this came from, how it was grown, who grew it, why they grew it? This silly apple is hope in the palm of my hands, her hands. She looks confused now and is simply pointing at the apple then my mouth. So I eat it, immediately I regret my lack of food. It’s like an explosion to a mouth that hasn’t had anything for years. But I only smile, wherever this girl’s from I hope she goes back. It’s worth being there, for her, not me. I’ve still got work to do. Always more work, till there’s no more work to be done. Till there’s no one left to save. Then I’ll allow someone to save me. Only then.


	3. An Apple For The Fairest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What does it mean to be a hero?

 

 

I was wrong, I made an assumption, I shouldn’t have done that. This girl is no deserter. I’ve never been good at spotting tricks or traps. I really wish I was. I think, all the while a collar and leash bind me. Weaken me, so much so that I can do nothing but float and watch. Watching is something I’m good at, especially now, notice things, find things, understand their possibilities. I think something resonated with the girl though, I can see it in her eyes. She feels remorse. So it would seem, she is like the boy from before. I hope she keeps her mouth shut. 

 

It doesn’t take long for mother to get to what she’s always wanted. A chance at dissection. Strapping me down with unnecessary levels of aggression and force. She sets out her instruments while making it a point for me to clearly see each one. She gets to work first removing at the ropes embedded in my flesh, ripping and tearing the flesh wildly as she goes. As they clatter to the floor, I hope none are damaged; something might work. She’s focused so intently on me and on what she wants to do. She doesn’t notice, but I do, the others reactions. They blame me sure, want me to suffer for their suffering, want me dead. But this is too much for all of them. I’m sure it’s not because of weak stomachs, no one has that anymore; how could they? You can only see someone destroyed by those stars, or crushed by a building, or cannibalized by another person; so many times before it doesn’t churn your insides anymore. 

It doesn’t take long for my chest to be opened up, flayed out like a butterfly made of ruby reds and emerald greens. I know I hear wrenching and there are things being said but ignoring the pain is where my focus goes. That and I have to find a way out, I have to be the hero. 

 

I can see mother swing her knives in the others general direction, no doubt protecting her game of doctor. This only causes the others to show genuine disgust and disdain towards her, rather than me. That’s the thing with human morals, they’re strong and only something stronger will outweigh their morals. For the sake of science, apparently didn't cut it for the others. As they watch on still trying to argue with her, as she takes away chunk after chunk of her pound of flesh. 

I don’t mind so much, it’s horrible and painful but. There’s always a but with me, I can always excuse others actions; it’s never really their fault. In some way, the blame is always mine and I’ll take it gladly; no matter how much I have to suffer. And suffer I do, regardless of what she thinks; ghost feel pain. We all do, and I’ll always do what I can to minimize others pain. That’s why I school my expression now, as she pulls out piece after piece, seeing my hurt would cause pain to them. I refuse to be the cause of their pain. What pieces she takes I can not tell, blurred vision makes observing difficult. Maybe she’ll learn something from me that can be used to save everyone, human and ghost. Though I know she doesn’t care for the ghosts. Maybe this is how I’ll finish my work, be the hero. I only hope that if she does find something that will work that she’ll step up and do it herself. I think she owes me that much. 

 

Through their arguing a man, large and bearded comes in. He is calm and soft but commanding in his presence. At first I think it could be, but no, it’s not dad. Surprisingly he goes to untie me, mother leaps over to stop him. Grabbing his wrists and glaring but not speaking. A heart locket swings around her neck, dangling in front of me. That’s new and I can read that dad’s name is engraved on it. Oh. I see. I guess that’s how it is. Someone else I failed. With that, the pain is too much and I fade to black. 

 

I wake to a wrapped body and I can tell my toes have finally regrown. It’s a welcomed thing, to wiggle them again. However, I’m still bound it would seem. I doubt I have been out long. The group of humans is all around me with my back against a wall, none of them look at me; whether I move or not. And I dare not break the silence. I can feel the itch of all the bandages, they cover everything. How much was cut away? How much is left? Is any of it even usable? Stable? Just keep going. Just keep working. And for today, just do what I must to survive. So I choose to use this as time to observe. Observing the door, walls and the silhouettes of figures arguing quietly. I have a feeling it’s about me. 

 

 

It was about me. It seems the large man has taken charge of me. He doesn't bother with binds at all. Not that it would matter, I’m far too damaged to do much beyond what I must. And I must keep working, I must fix this, I must keep going. So I do. The first thing I do is put back on the shoulder piece I made, _Be the hero_ , stands out on it still and I made a promise. The man watches me tinker, occasionally mother comes in and scowls but says nothing. This man is clearly in charge and he’s told her no. I don’t know why he cares to watch my tinkering but I imagine it’s because of all the weird tech I got out of the suit. Maybe he just wants to see what and why I work away. 

 

 

The peace of this doesn’t last long, it never does. Nothing ever lasts long for me. Be it good or bad. It’s not the fault of the man or my mother though. But rather the stars. One crashed into the building, now everything burns. I take what I can re-tie to me and look for people. Chuckling dryly I quickly come to know they left the danger, and me. Left me to be destroyed by the stars. Stars that I once loved so very dearly. I live though, I live through it all. I always do, I always have to, it’s what I do. No one can afford for me not to. 

 

 

Out a tunnel, I go walking along. I don’t have the energy for flight but I find, as I go, a pile of apples. “ _Sorry_ ” is written on one. I need no apology, I need you to survive girl. But I take the apples gladly anyways. In my time between apples, I check over the damage. I had been functionally flayed from neck to toe, and who knows what internals are missing; the bandages hurt to try to remove. So I opt to just leave them be. I’ll be able to remove them when my work is done, when everyone is ok. Then I’ll fix my body up, then I’ll see what’s regrown and what hasn’t. Though I do take the time to check that I still have my pulse, I need that to keep my immunity to the purple pollution. If I lose to that I won’t be any help to anyone or thing. I can’t have that. 

 

I had to give up on the hand balls. Just not working out and I can’t waste time. My body is still a mess and I know I look just as horrible as I have in days past. But that doesn’t matter and I don’t care. My body isn’t of importance, it doesn’t matter. My next device is a sharp chest trinket, it taps into a ghosts core. Mines stronger than most, perks of being a halfa. My ice, no matter how weakened I am, stays strong and powerful. Utilizing it’s all that’s left for options. Everything else has been exhausted or just isn’t doable now. I place no blame on anyone though. Hooking into my core like this burns something fierce but I’ll grin and bare it, like always and forever more. So long as it is needed. 

 

Surprisingly, as I’m out to test this latest trinket I spot a human. It’s the same large bearded man from before. Only now he’s down an arm. He’s holding a little girl in his arms. Blood running down his side pooling on the ground. I stand understanding the loss and grief. But also the need to be silent. We’re on the surface after all. 

 

This man is very observant, he notices me quickly and turns. Tears stain his beard and cover his cheeks. All he does is point to my chest, or more so to the trinket there, and then the closest star. We need no words I know what he’s asking. I simply nod, his returning smile screams anger but is filled with nothing but absolute sadness. She must have been his daughter. I understand too well, I lost a little one in my arms who bore the same colours as me long ago. She was too weak to handle any of this, she tried though. If she could have lived off of spite, she would have. I wonder if the bearded man’s little girl was full of fire and spite too. 

 

He watches from afar as I walk up the same way as many, many times before to this star. The biggest I can find, to see what this trinket can do. Things will end. Things will be fixed. They will all be ok. 

 

It doesn’t work. 

 

The man looks at me wearily as I simply collapse onto my hips. I sit slumped for a while. I’m not sure what more I could possibly do. What anyone or thing could possibly do. I promised but it’s not working. I’m the hero but it’s not working. I’m still going but it’s not working. I’m giving everything but it’s, still, not, working. I vomit up what little I have into the grass as the man comes up behind me. He heaves me up and takes me back down, to where it’s safe. Though I don’t know if safe means anything, if my everything is doing nothing.

 

He pushes me to keep tinkering, tapping on my shoulder piece; he understands it’s purpose, the reminder, I think. He won’t let the others interrupt me either, snapping his fingers at anyone who even so much as looks at me dirty. He gets what I’m trying to do now. So does the apple girl, she keeps bringing me apples. Sometimes I eat, sometimes I don’t. Sometimes I tinker, sometimes I think I’m giving up. And I can’t do that. I know I can’t but I’m not sure anymore if “can’t” is even a real word. Maybe this is all just inevitable. 

 

The man won’t let go of the little girl, she’s starting to rot. He cradles her all the time. I get it, I do. But. You have to go on, dammit. Seeing him still holding on, holding her, when there’s no use, no point; just makes something click. None of this is working, I’m not working. I’m not being the hero. I need to do that. I have to. So I get to work, on something new. Though I never took off the chest piece, a reminder of what I must still do. Even if I’ve found I no longer can. 

 

It takes very little time to finish and with that, I walk to the man. The first time I’ve walked or stood since the chest piece failed. And I give him my new trinket, an arm. Shiny and metal but an arm. He stares at it confused, but I simply point to his armless shoulder and to the girl. I understand the silence that must be kept and so does he. He allows me to attach it, I can feel others watching. Once everything’s attached, neuroreceptors in place, I let him move it himself. He does so cautiously but as soon as he sees that it works, he brings it down underneath the little girl and holds her up. He cries. Wet, angry, messy tears. He knows no words are needed and out of everyone I’ve ever done right by, he seems to know I won’t accept a thank you. Hero’s need no thanks after all and sometimes being a hero isn’t about saving the world but helping a man to hug his daughter one last time. 

 

After that, the other humans don’t give me cruel looks but most of the looks they give me are sad. Maybe it’s the way I look, I’m supposed to be the hero, the shining star. Yet I look like a man whose very existence is actively spitting in the face of death. Which for me is actually quite accurate, I should be dead many times over.

 

The bearded man was able to lay his daughter to rest, he looks filled with determination in every sense of the word now. He seems to be making a point of using the metal arm whenever I’m in the line of sight. It’s nice to see that it works still, and with that, I am able to work again. They all try to help me now, except mother. She just watches from a distance, I can never read her face. The others will point to where they think something should go or how it should be turned. Point out anything I may have missed out, they’ve all come to understand silence. No one talks near me and I never talk. There’s no place for it, work needs to be done. Even if nothing will ever work. Even if it’s all pointless. It’s all I can do. It’s all I know. 

 


	4. The Day The Stars Ate My Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Melting down hope.

Mother brought me something today. It’s a core connector prod. I can tell it was meant to hurt ghosts, everything with her is like that. But I see the potential immediately. It can convert internal core energy into a massive explosion of external energy. This, connected to what I’ve already built might do something. My core is strong, very strong, the energy burst I could make would be unrivalled. I do not know if my ice could combat the lighting and explosions of the stars but, maybe just maybe, this could work. Even if it only worked on one, or could only damage it a little; it would be progress. With that I tinker away, giving her a curt nod in thanks. She shakes her head at the thanks and puts her head down, body stiff and fists clenched. It’s the pose of a child pleading for forgiveness. But it’s unneeded, I forgave her before she ever did anything that needed forgiveness. I simply pat her arm to let her know that, a soft smile playing across my face. She just stares at me in shock and walks away, shaking tears from her eyes. I know my pat was not enough, she wants me to be angry, to yell. I know that’s what she would do if the roles were reversed and she knows it too. That doesn’t matter though, I’m not mad, I’m not even disappointed; I expected it. I knew it would happen someday, I accepted that fact a long time ago. So I’d rather she not worry about it, all is forgiven. But even with her new view of this half of me, things can’t change; it’s too late. I, no we, ran out of time for a heart-to-heart, for complete openness, ages ago. At one time I could have told her, maybe I should have, but I didn’t. I kept my secret to keep her and many others safe, that’s my job. So I’m still not going to tell her, it would break her and honestly; her son has been gone for a long time. Lost to the role of a hero. A role chosen, given, created, needed. Did he ever really have a choice? 

 

That’s the thing with life, with this kind of life. It just happens, it’s random. Some random kid in some random town living some random life. A call comes and things change. Everything changes, it always does. Imagine if it didn’t? Where would we all be now? Because my call, it both damned me and saved me; in so many ways. It’s done the same for so many others as well. 

 

My existence didn’t cause the fall, I know that. I’d take the blame if asked though, and I have. But if I wasn’t exactly as I am now, I would be dead. Maybe there’d be someone else to do the tinkering, to bare burdens, to be the hero. But I’d rather not take that chance. Especially considering I haven’t seen nor heard of anyone else doing what I am. Sure the only other ever like me tried, but it was rooted in selfishness not heroism; and he failed in a very permanent way. So it’s just me, which is why I can’t stop, can’t wait, can’t change. I must keep working, always. Even if there’s no one left to save. I hope that never comes to pass. But if it does, if I’m all that’s left, I’ll just keep going. I have to, it’s all I know, and maybe someday new life would come. I’d make sure to be there to protect that new life, even if every second I existed caused me nothing but pain. I’d watch over every single damn one. I’d scream and shout for them to grow strong, for them to fight for survival, for them to just live. No matter what I had to give to do it. 

 

With so much in mind I tinker away, pulling things here, putting things there. I know I look like something crazed, the way I feverishly tinker. In some way I think my parents would be proud, me being a little inventor. Sometimes I used to bother with names, but names get you attached to things. I can’t afford that, if it doesn’t work I have to disassemble and try something new. Attachment makes doing that hard, while I’m willing to bare any hardship; I’d prefer to not place completely avoidable ones on myself. I sure there’s only so much weight I can carry before everything just gives out. I worry, as I come to a finish with my tinkering, that I’m already starting to give out. I always overestimate my own power. Which I shouldn’t do but I have to truly believe I can take it all. Otherwise, I might avoid taking some; and I can’t do that. Plus I hear belief is a powerful thing, it can change everything. If I believe strongly enough that I can bare it all, that I can save it all, that I can be the hero; then eventually, I will. I have to. And if every part of me breaks in the process then that’s ok. 

 

Staring down at the trinket, which I’ve done all I know I can to. I choose to rise. It looks dangerous and cruel attached to my chest, but to me it looks like hope. Like an apple. The others notice my stand but they also notice my damaged body. They move to help me walk to where we all know I’m going. But I don’t need the help, I don’t need the protection, I don’t need to be saved; not yet. So I stand as firm as I can and make sure I look even firmer. I wave them off and shake my head. A couple look at me with awe, some with pity, and others with reverence. But through all the looks I can see the underlining mixture of sadness and determination. Here I am faced with a group who won’t lie down, they’ll keep going and I know that even if I fail; they’ll try to survive on. They’ll drag me back and push me to try again, and if I can’t they’ll wait for me till I can. I refuse the idea that my possible inability to continue my work will ever be permanent. I will violate and destroy every natural law if I have to, why not? I’ve already violated at least one. And being in an ongoing state of being both dead and alive has to be the biggest break to natural laws out there. So the rest can’t be too hard. 

And now with the new updated trinket, I look out to the surface land; filled with stars of death. These people all know what I’m trying to do now. They’re every look screams “Be the hero”. They show it with body language too, as they each in turn place a hand on my shoulder piece; right on the words. They wish me silent luck and wish the world silent luck through these permanently inked words. I turn my back on the on looking humans, those I must protect, as I walk with defiance towards this, the biggest star. With every step I scream inside my mind, I will keep trying! I won’t stop working! Can or can’t be damned! Possible or impossible be damned! I may love the stars but these stars need to be destroyed. 

 

Activating the trinket I know it’s doing something. What? I don’t know, not yet, but it’s something. All I can do is hope it’s good. The temperature plummets and I can tell the natural moisture in the air near me has turned to ice. I always found it beautiful, the ice, all the forms it can take and how the light passes through it. My core has always been dear to me because of this, with it I can create beauty. Beauty makes people feel happy and safe, no matter where or who they are. So I don’t mind when my core makes itself known, I didn’t mind back then and I don’t mind now. As the blue glow of my core grows stronger than ever and pulses out over my skin, it’s power reverberates in the air when suddenly I see a grand collision of pure energy. 

 

Barriers swirl and clash, two worlds melding into each other in grand fashion. I feel terrified for the years of work that will have to be put into achieving unity between the two sides. I can see the hate writhing on both ends, while I exist in the middle. I bring a light hand to my chest and close my eyes, if only for a second. With myself tapped so truly into my core I can feel it all, all of both sides. The hurt and the pain the fall has caused, is still causing. All the loss. It’s so very much. But I’ll take it, I’ll take all of it, give it to me. 

I open my eyes to the sight before me, for the first time I truly see, fully see. The waves, maps, sparks and flames that tie my two worlds to each other. Though I am raked by pain, grief and weakness; I feel overwhelming love and protection. These feelings aren’t for myself but rather every creature, everyone gone, everyone still here, and everyone yet to come. Humans. Ghosts. And everything in between. 

I look to these “stars”, these poisons I once loved; the idea of them I still do love, but not in this form. These stars are tainting everything, destroying it with their vaporizing lightning and poisoned fire. 

 

And so for the first time in a long time I just stand and I truly look around, sense and feel. Every spark, wave and flame of both my worlds. The interconnectedness of it all and how it’s still so separate. I sense my core within me, every part of my damaged body, and finally, my very being. I understand now. I get how this will go, how it will work. And it will work. It has to and I have to do it. I promised I’d always be the hero. I promised I belonged to them, to everyone else. I promised I’d grin and bare it. I promised I would keep working till it was done. I promised I’d find a way. I promised my everything. And here, now, that’s what I’ll damn well give. I never break a promise. Not then, not now, not ever. I would say not in the future, but that’s not applicable anymore. 

 

I know now and with that knowledge I look to the faces, all the faces that exist on each side. A man of clocks watches through a portal crying as he looks to the soon coming future. A crowned Yeti bows his head, leading his people to follow suit. A mother’s eyes wide with shock and horror, underneath it lies regret. A bearded man squeezes his robotic arm tight. A sister, glowing brightly, looks on with pride. 

And finally, I look to my own self. My core glowing so bright it envelops all of me in soft blue. My green eyes fierce and unwilling to bend. My smile is a mixture of happiness, sadness and pride. And with that last look to any sentient being I loft my head high and blast my cores energy across everything. Bathing the world in a wash of glowing blues and greens, as a mixture of crimson red and acid green bleeds through every pore and hole of my mortal body. Forming a grand pool beneath my floating form. Core energy, cold fire, consuming everything. Pieces of flesh fall away, turned to smoke and mist in the air. Eyes bubble and drip down my face, sliding over liquefying bone and fading away flesh. Bones and organs drip down, thickening the messy pool. But that too is billowing mist and being consumed into my energy. Chunks of hair fall off, turning black as they do before they too are consumed. All the while I smile, through it all I smile. Every kind of pain is mixed together in one brutal mass. Shocking, burning, crushing, breaking, drowning, choking, cutting, boiling; I smile. As a hero I will go, maybe a saviour too. I look back with unseeing eyes, with that soft smile playing across melting discarded bones and teeth. I’m numb to my senses know, so I know not how any onlookers feel. I hope I am not causing them pain and that is why I smile back. Because it’s ok, this is ok, it’s always been ok. My smile serves to let them know that. And with that, I feel myself go. 

 

Slowly, as the great all-encompassing blue energy fades, a small ball of green light forms where there had once been a star of cruel white and a boy who was always the hero. A massive beam of green light shoots from the ground, through the sky and into empty space. Leaving behind only silence and darkness, as every single star burns out. 


	5. Epilogue - Phantom Star

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phantoms burn brighter

 

 

 

 

It was when all other stars died, a great one burned brighter. All the stars emptying from the sky as one lonely grounded star ran and ran to face them, to shoot up into its place in space. Beat down again and again this one lone star refused to fall, and with its refusal it brought forth renewed light where it had once been snuffed out. All the while it’s very being screamed one last final promise:

 

 

_Somehow, someway, I’ll make new stars someday. And this hell be damned, they’ll be the brightest stars you’ve ever seen._

 

 

“And that they were young one, that they were” a man of clocks says with a sigh, as he looks up to the one lonely star burning the brightest most wondrous shade of green he’d ever seen. From that one star he knew, oh he knew, hundreds of thousands of new ones would form. Blazing throughout space and lighting up the faces of every onlooker; and this man of time would always be an onlooker. 

 

This zone of green shook sadly in response to the star that could never return. Seemingly to try and send out a tune to ease any pain that may lay up in the vast of space. The residents in this place are too consumed with recovery to do much, but they all feel the change. The sudden explosion of massive power and then the sudden absence of both the power and the being it was tied to. The reel of it made them all feel the kind of sickness that comes from crying too long and too hard. It didn’t take most long to understand exactly what had happened. And so a great castle of whites and blacks, that was to be a home; instead became an empty tomb. Ghosts, though not the sentimental type, all knew enough to not shrug off this passing. So they each came, in their time, and gave their pound of ectoplasm. Equal to the amount each felt they had taken from the star. Whether through fighting or asking it’s help or simply relying on it from afar. Eventually, the pool that lies in the centre of the castle was full of green; and they felt they had done enough. Even with this great event, in times to come only a select few would come to visit. But one lone girl could rarely be seen outside of it. 

 

The human side of the coin felt no different. Most sat in awe and shock at what the star straddling life and death had done, most eventually coming to feel a wave of great loss. None could bring themselves to feel victory or pride. They didn’t win, they didn’t do this. Pride and victory wasn’t theirs to feel and too much was lost. Every last one felt that this particular loss was tragically grand. A loss of something so utterly special and so utterly needed. Few doubted that without this one who blazed so bright, there would have been no more tomorrows one day. Eventually, the blow had softened and a shrine was built in the days that followed, from all the old parts the young star had gathered and left behind. Found by the few who had chosen to thrive instead of lay down. A bearded man was the one to gather up all the pieces of what looked to be a metal suit. Eventually putting back together a desperate note, he read it with a heavy heart and found himself reaching a new level of understanding as he looked to the skies. “The weight of two worlds waging a war in your body, burdening your shoulders with their weight. It’s no wonder you were space bound, how could you ever belong here.” Rubbing the shoulder peice lightly as he places it in the centre of the shrine. He knows that anyone looking for hope and the determination to survive on, will look to and rest their hands upon it. “Shrines are built for gods and I’ve heard it said, that every star is a god.” He finds he has no more words, so he hopes his feelings are enough. He is filled with nothing but sad appreciation and the knowledge that the star will neither hear nor accept any thank you’s. 

 

 

The shrine stands tall, adorned and decorated in wondrous fashion. Decorated by things of meaning and things of beauty. Dedicated to a phantom of the past, a phantom star. But they'll never let anyone say, not now and not in the future, that phantoms fade away. Because in truth, that phantom never did fade and he finally did reach the stars. 

 

_When a star was needed,_

_Rising up was all I could do._

_For all my mortality and failings,_

_Rising up was all I could do._

-a phantom of the past-

 

**End.**

**Alt. Ending next chapter.**


	6. Alternative Ending: Eat Your Heart Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What's a star…?  
> Can you kill it?

 I sense my core within me, every part of my damaged body, and finally, my very being. I don’t know what the future holds. I know not how this will go, how it will work. But it must. It has to and I have to do it. I promised I’d always be the hero. I promised I belonged to them, to everyone else. I promised I’d grin and bare it. I promised I would keep working till it was done. I promised I’d find a way. I promised my everything. And here, now, that’s what I’ll damn well give. After all I have a promise to keep.

 

And with that promise I look to the faces, all the faces that exist on each side. A man of clocks weakly spins his staff as he stares horrified at a portal looking to the soon coming future. A crowned Yeti sighs and sits upon the ground. Not a trace of hope left in his peoples' eyes. A mother’s eyes wide with shock and horror, underneath it lies regret. A bearded man squeezes his robotic arm tight. A sister, glowing brightly, screaming with what little voice she has. 

And finally, I look to my own self. My core glowing so bright it envelops all of me in cruel blue. My green eyes brimming with hurt and loss but unwilling to be snuffed out. I bear a smile reflecting all this life’s misery and suffering, mingled with pride. And with that last look to any sentient being I loft my head high and blast my cores energy across everything. Bathing the world in a wash of glowing blues and greens, interspersed with jolts of angry red. As a mixture of crimson red and acid green bleeds through every pore and hole of my mortal body. Forming a grand pool beneath my floating form. Core energy, cold fire, racing to clash with star fire. Sparking angry red lines of hot lightning to dance and dart across my skin. Hair so white bursts, turned first to smoke and mist in the air; eventually settling on a raging inferno that quickly spreads to each star like a bitter infection. 

I move to tear at my eyes as I feel liquid lava boil them red. Every kind of pain is mixed together in one brutal mass. Shocking, burning, crushing, breaking, drowning, choking, cutting, boiling; but that’s not the worst. Inside, oh my insides, nothing but hate, loss, misery, torment, and abuse; lies inside. Some remnants of a hero screaming to stop, that he knows where this all goes. But I’m too cold or too hot or too hurt or too many other things to care or listen. I grin, it’s slow going at first but slowly as the hero gives up the ghost more and more; I find it’s easier. Hero’s, saviours HA! What a waste. I look back with eyes of bloody murder, with that giddy smile playing across sharped teeth and bruise blue skin. I’m numb to their hope now, so I look to these mortal snacks who know not what a grand monster they bear witness to. Chuckling, oh I’ll stop these petty little stars; they can be assured of that. 

Chuckling deeply I snap my head back to this star, “Can’t have you taking away my fun”. I reach up and crush what little remains of the once great star. And with that, I feel any ties to childish promises go.

 

The great all-encompassing blue energy suddenly snaps away, absorbed into a man standing like a god. Where there had once been a star of cruel white now stands the cruel truth of inevitability. Throwing hands wide to the side this creature sends out arching blasts of pure energy across the network of fiery infection lacing every star. The stars all eaten up by this blasting inferno chased down by cruel shots of searing cold ice, find their power settling into a new home. Nestled by clawed hands in a core of ice. 

Turning back to the humans, who would come to prefer the stars, because the beauty of ice serves only to hide monstrous deadly depths. 

“Hello world, I suppose I could play nice to reward all your waiting. But I don’t play like that.” He chuckles as he stalks his first steps towards the truth of his nature. 

 

 

 

It was in the effort to pacify the heat death of cruel space stars that a great one grew dark, blacked by long suffered loss and loneliness. Though through the fall of stars this blacked one became emboldened with cosmic power. One can only be beaten down again and again so many times, till pressure makes cracks and cracks become fissures. And brought forth from fissures a darkened star snuffed out the space-based doom only to replace it with Its own personal brand of the end. All the while Its very being screamed one grand undeniable truth:

 

_Because after all, I’m inevitable._

 

A man of clocks collapses as a hand crushes his head after bursting through his portal, made too late. “Not this time old man” is the last thing he hears, surrounded by dark cackles. The dark star pulls the crushed head through the time portal and lets it close around his neck. Flinging the decapitated piece into the faces of every onlooker. And they could do nothing but be onlookers themselves. “It’s time to play”.

 

The human side of the coin faired poorly. They stared in shock and horror at what the dark star had done. Most began to shake as Its power cooled out like a cat and Its tongue snapped like a snakes. Some give up and fell to the ground, others turn to flee and a mother stands to fight. However, everyone morns, for while they didn’t win, they did do this. This was their fault, they relied too much and everything broke. With this one who blazes so dark comes nothingness, absolution and no more tomorrows. The mother is the first to fall, It grabs her arm and tears it clean off. She falls over as It takes her leg too, her final end coming when the bones of the limbs are pierced clean through her eyes and out her head. Some try throwing all the dark stars old trinkets at It, trying to save It from the darkness that’s taken its hold. But that is futile, It runs through each person with the varying devices. Balls sent through stomachs, clamps snapped around heads, and many pointed things impaled through organs.

As It spins around a mangled corpse run through by a hickey stick, a bearded man runs off to dig up a little girl, in hopes to jog the dark stars sympathies a new. But It simply approaches unchanged, ramming a clawed hand through the man’s stomach It grasps the corpse girl’s head and pulls the child’s body through the father’s torso. It leaves the child’s corpse unceremoniously on the ground, splattered with her father’s organs and blood. The dark star eventually finds the remains of the metal beasts suit and laughs, “what a fool! But they got what they wanted! Didn’t they”, It finishes with a low growl as It stuffs a man in the suit and crushes it like a pop can. Blood spurting out the cracks as the dark star tosses the sharp crushed suit like a knife, slicing through multiple people; some who were already dead.  

It builds mounds of body’s as temples, crash and breaks buildings to pile up. With the occasional living soul still inside, to be crushed and impaled by rubble. Its burning steps cover the earth as It rampages, trying every new way It can think of to destroy, maim and make suffer. Eventually, It finds no more to be done, nothing left to break or burn. So It sets everything ablaze with ice and star fire. For when two worlds wage war in a single body, the ultimate collision is a merciless thing. 

 

The zone of green shakes with fear and rage in response to the blasts of power sent ripping through it. Many too weak to bare it are consumed and destroyed along by the stars. The residents of this place who manage to survive feel consumed with nothing but dread as they feel the darkest star begin to consume. Reeling from soon coming destruction. As It approaches they come to understand, this was their doing in a sense and now they met their maker. A grand castle of whites and blacks, that was to be for the greatest of kings becomes one of rot and of destruction. It strangled the sister with hair like fire, with her own intestines and stung her up as a flag to make its first mark. 

The dark star sits upon Its throne, laughing cruel hate onto everything that feels it. Its very voice and cackle destroying life with its cruel vibrations. Even those who survived Its first assault dared not to shrug off this monster. Some came to beg and plead, others with offers of allegiance. But this dark star needed it not. “I’ll tell you what I want, I want you to perish and fall apart into nothingness”, was the only response any of them ever got. It took Its pound of flesh and that meant every single little morsel. Snapping Its teeth shut around ghostly flesh, It ripped and tore everything apart. Sending cruel blasts across the seas of green It breaks down every single molecule, absorbing all its power into Its being. 

 

The earth begins to fall as it’s dark star of destruction stands tall and cackles all the while. Its adored Itself in disturbed fashion, babies limbs tied to intestine necklaces, a grotesque trailing cape fashioned of skin, rings of eyeballs, and baring a crown made of ghostly death screams. Drenched head to toe in blood and ectoplasm, It flings Itself out to space to find new worlds and things to consume in Its fire and ice. The obliterated husk of a planet stands dedicated to a phantom of annihilation and unavoidable futures, the true phantom star. The universe quakes at the sight and existence of this husk for its existence means that no being can ever say that phantoms fade away. Because in truth, that phantom would go on to consume it all, as It finally did see out Its inevitability.

 

_When the stars heeded fate,_

_Consuming all was what I would do._

_For all my callous and cruelty,_

_Consuming all was what I would do._

_-a phantom of the future-_


End file.
